


Comfort ficlet

by greedy_dancer



Series: Tumblr ficlets [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Notfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's had a tough day, here are some words about him being taken care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> Written immediately in the aftermath of [the "Louis is annoying" debacle](http://www.dailystar.co.uk/showbiz/367274/Nick-Grimshaw-threatened-by-One-Direction-fans-over-Louis-Tomlinson-insult), reposted [from Tumblr](http://greedydancer.tumblr.com/post/77864153585/comfort-ficlet) for backup and completion's sake. 
> 
> Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked, but feel free to point out typos and things if you find any.

I’ve been stewing about today’s fuckery like all of us and I started writing this, because stories are my way of coping and coming to terms with things and reassuring myself that the people I care about are okay.

And I started thinking about Nick finally going to bed, after the crazy day he’s had, Puppy snuggled against his side because even though it’s against the rules, he definitely needs the extra attention tonight.

Colette’s in the bathroom, of course. He didn’t ask her to stay and she didn’t offer, just marched straight into the bedroom when they turned off the telly.

Nick can hear her hum in there and he feels a wave of gratefulness and affection, and a little bit of guilt, too. She’s done so much today already, bossing him around for the first half of the bike ride and then keeping him distracted through the second; confiscating his phone and then his computer once they came back to his; banging around the kitchen making their tea and pouring them glasses of wine and then putting away the bottle before they could actually get drunk on a work day even though Nick desperately wanted to get smashed. Just being _there_ , keeping up a steady stream of inane-yet-amazing commentary on the first mindless telly programme they find.

She gave him his phone back but made him promise he wouldn’t go on Twitter or Tumblr.

“And don’t ya dare Google yourself!” she added. “Everyone who knows ya loves ya, Grim. Sod the rest of them, yeah?”

Nick really does love the woman.

Anyway, she’s in the bathroom for a good 15 minutes if he knows her, so he turns his phone on. It blows up immediately, buzzing and beeping with missed calls and voice-mails and emails and tweets.

He valiantly keeps his word, deleting all the Twitter stuff unread and opens Gmail instead. Most of the emails can wait, but there’s a group one from the team he clicks on right away. Ian and Fiona’s messages are mostly apologetic; Matt’s is quite sweary, which is strangely comforting. They’ve exchanged a few possible strategies for how to deal with it tomorrow, but they’re leaving the last word to him and he doesn’t really know yet. Probably not saying anything would be best, but that’s also what he’d planned on doing in the afternoon, before he found it was finally too much.

He’s working through his missed calls and texts – Caroline from the agency’s been on twice asking him to call her back, and between Aimee, Henry and Gells, he’s received probably all the emojis and swears in the book – when the phone buzzes in his hand.

_Just got back and saw. Are you okay? xx_

It’s from an unknown, international number, but there’s no doubt as to who it belongs to. The one through which trouble came. He takes a moment to consider what he wants to reply, then sends:

_ha thanks but I’ve had worse how’re Anne & Robin enjoying the glam LA life_

It’s not exactly true, but it’s not an outright lie either. Sticks and stones, etc. Though Nick never could have believed teenage girls would be the ones to get deepest under his skin - it’s one thing when it’s aging Moyles fans and another when it comes from what are basically children. It should be easier to brush off, and yet. 

But there’s no need to make popstars worry their pretty little heads off over him when there’s nothing they can do anyway. This isn’t even about Harry for once - well, ultimately it is, but not in the usual way. Involving him would only make things worse.

His phone buzzes again, twice, in quick succession.

_Do you want me to say something. I was gonna make calls but mum says I should ask you first._

_She sends her love by the way._

And Nick’s so charmed he can’t even keep up the tiny thread of annoyance and anger at Harry bringing his batshit fans into Nick’s life.

_better not. be over sooner if you don’t. thanks though_

_Alright. Let me know if you change your mind._

By the time Colette comes out of the bathroom and gets under the covers next to Nick, on the other side of Puppy, Nick and Harry have exchanged a dozen more texts, Harry updating him on introducing Anne to various celebrities and sending a picture of Harry, Anne and Robin on a boat looking happy and relaxed, Nick telling him about his biking exploits.

 _anyway gotta go school night but thanks for checking in on poor little me_ , Nick sends, and then _night night popstar, talk soon yeah?_

He leaves the phone next to his pillow to stop it rattling the bedside table in case it rings in the night, and he says goodnight to Colette, turning off the lights, taking a deep breath when she hugs him tight.

She starts snoring right away but even though Nick’s physically exhausted his brain keeps circling over the same things, things he’d rather not be thinking right now. The phone buzzes again, lighting up the darkness.

_I really am sorry, Nick. I wish there was something I could do. I wish I were there._

And Nick’s hand tightens on his phone because, well. He types: _make it up to me when youre back_ , hits send, checks that his alarm’s on and finally closes his eyes.

Tomorrow is a whole other day.


End file.
